


𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙮 • k. tetsurō

by KKOZUMAE



Category: Haikyuu!!, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Detectives, F/F, F/M, Haikyuu!! AU Week, M/M, Multi, Murder, Murder Mystery, POV Kuroo Tetsurou, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Third Gym (Haikyuu!!)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:53:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29204670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KKOZUMAE/pseuds/KKOZUMAE
Summary: ❛❜𝙞 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙞𝙛 𝙞𝙩 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙙 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙖 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙚. ❛❜in which london's mostwanted   criminal  findsshelter   in    a      wittydetective's arms.❛❜𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙛 𝙞 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙖 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙩𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪.❛❜heavily inspired by bbc's 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬!𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙪𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙮/𝙣!───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────© haikyuu belongs to haruichifurudate© plot belongs to @/KKOZUMAE
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ───── **  
**

he lurked around the corner, his sly hazel eyes following the stiff figure sitting in the dim light. the silhouette he watched from afar moved slightly, their [h/l] hair getting in their face as the breeze flew by. they moved their hands to put a strand of [h/c] hair behind their ears, making him shiver with the lightness of their moves. smooth and delicate, that's what they were to him.

kuroo had seen his new-found obsession a couple weeks ago. in a catlike manner, he stood beside an alley, smoking his god-knows-which-number cigarette of the day. as his fingers ran through his black, bed-head style hair, he saw a person run past him as they talked to a skull. immediately, he felt intrigued and gravitated toward the interesting person.

days later, he found out his obsession had a name: [y/n]. a brilliant detective, they were. their mind raced like kids on concrete, they could solve the eeriest crimes, unravel the most scrambled of mysteries. and there they stood once again, talking to a bloody skull like it was their best friend. in rather a shakespearean manner, [y/n] took their stride proudly, muttering about their latest case. the skull didn't nod or interrupt — for it was a skull, after all. _maybe that's why they enjoy that object so much. it doesn't talk back,_ he wondered.

he was very prone to obsession and he knew it. he would become hyper fixated on one thing on one day, and it would vanish in the next one. not a very healthy habit, but one he couldn't break, much like the hardest chains one could ever be tied to. back to the dark corner in an empty street, kuroo saw [y/n] move. _are they reaching for their skull?_ he giggled under his breath. instead of a skull, however, a person appeared and sat beside the detective.

did they have a partner? was that a romantic relationship he was seeing? no, it couldn't be. apart from their incredible mental abilities and observation, [y/n] was also known for their emotionlessness. they were unattached, free of any sentiment. some people would even describe them as cold, a frigid aura with a sharp tongue and witty attitude. so who the hell was that person?

"what- what are you doing here?" the person that had just arrived trembled against the bitter london weather. "it's freezing cold! come on, now, come inside. i've just made us some tea, won't you come, now..." they patted [y/n]'s shoulder, motioning for them to go inside 221b, baker street.

"ms. hudson, could you please be quiet? i'm thinking here." _see? there you go. devoid of any compassion._

"thinking? is it for another one of your cases? well, think inside then. come on, now, or you'll catch a cold!"

"ms. hudson, please." they put their index finger in front of their mouth, indicating ms. hudson she should stay quiet in order for them to think. something told kuroo they would be highly bothered if she did otherwise. swiftly, they placed both their hands underneath their cheeks in a sort of prayer motion, and closed their eyes.

"no, no, no! enough of this. it's 2am, [y/n], and you will come inside. you can think later!" ms. hudson grabbed [y/n] by the shoulders, making them stand up rather abruptly. then, she wrapped them around a red blanket for comfort. as they went up to [y/n]'s flat, kuroo could hear faint exclamations of "if you're not my housekeeper, ms. hudson, why are you doing this? you're not my mother either, are you?" coming from the detective.

as he watched both of them leave, he began to fall into a spiral of rage. who the hell was ms. hudson? that could not have been a friend of [y/n] [y/l/n]. [y/n] [y/l/n] had no friends. who dared to come near his precious treasure? he felt betrayed. he felt disgusted. he felt jealous.

lost in his own thoughts, kuroo was awakened by a tap on his shoulder. "you ready?" someone asked. turning around, kuroo saw kenma kozume, his equipment safe in his black backpack. he tilted his head to the left, wondering what put kuroo in such a transe. "problem?" the shorter one asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

shaking his head, kuroo responded. "n-no, i'm okay. come on, we've got shit to blow up." kenma nodded in response and kuroo let out a soft chuckle.

if he was going to catch [y/n]'s attention with one move, he might as well make it grand.

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** aand here it is! i finally caved in and started a fanfic. what did u guys think? it's heavily inspired by bbc's sherlock - i just finished the show and it's currently one of my favorites. have you guys watched it? it's soo good i swear. 

for some context: [y/n] is sherlock, kuroo is a criminal (i'm still thinking whether i should make him like moriarty or not), kenma is his "partner in crime", akaashi - who will appear later, don't worry - is watson, and ms. hudson is, well, ms. hudson. i decided to make [y/n] gender-neutral for inclusion, i hope that's okay. if it isn't, then you're just transphobic and might as well unfollow me :). 

i hope you enjoy the story!

signing off,

— 𝖒.


	2. 𝟬𝟭 • 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

it didn't take ms. hudson 20 minutes to prepare the tea kettle and serve the beverage to [y/n]. however, in the meantime, the detective's brain ran a bullet-train of thought, going from mundane to utmost bizarre things. one could definitely affirm they had their marvelous mind set to always think, for thinking was humanity's gift, and a person who could think properly was one to admire.

"here is your tea, [y/n]. but be careful, dear, it is very hot." ms. hudson approached the sitting detective cautiously. tea and biscuits laid on a flower print tray, waiting patiently for [y/n] to hop out their thinking stance — prayer hands right under the chin, eyes closed — and finally eat something. much to the landlady's dismay, [y/n] did not move a muscle. they sat firmly in their chair, as stiff as ever, while ms. hudson took it as her responsibility to wake them up from their transe.

"darling, won't you have some tea? i made it just now-"

"there was someone there," the detective finally said.

"excuse me?" ms. hudson did not seem to understand a word they had just said. "what do you mean?"

giving her the look, — in which they squint their eyes a tad bit, just enough to say "that's obvious!" — [y/n] took one single biscuit from the tray. the chair in which they sat stood as unmoved as them, its black leather cushions almost forming a crease from frequent sitting. ms. hudson had tried fluffing the pillow up, rearranging it so maybe the crease would go away. there was no such luck: the crease stayed as proudly as its owner.

"yesterday, when i sat on that bench. there was someone out there, someone watching me." standing up abruptly, they stabbed a paper on top of the table beside the chair, in which resided a barely lit fireplace. "right there, on the corner," they pointed to the left as they made their way to stand in front of the fireplace. "who was it?" the under-the-breath tone and furrowed brows indicated [y/n] said that to themself. that and the fact that they believed ms. hudson to be too incomprehensive of the world to be able to answer such a question.

"i don't know, dear. i just went there to call you upstairs, i didn't see anyone on the corner..."

"of course you didn't."

"e-excuse...?" the landlady looked baffled. _[y/n] is a genius, indeed. yet again, a terribly rude one,_ she thought. meanwhile, [y/n] took determined steps out the flat, leaving ms. hudson and the tray behind, the tea still untouched. "where are you going?" the lady inquired, still stunned from the last blow she took from the detective. "at least drink some tea-"

"i've got no time for tea, ms. hudson. i must hurry. if you'll excuse me." walking as fast as they could, [y/n] left the building despite ms. hudson's calls. grabbing their coat on their way out, the detective fell at mercy of the cold british weather, being suddenly hit by the breeze. with a gesture, they called for the nearest cab, and asked for the cabbie to take them to the morgue.

◦'𖥸'◦

in about 19 minutes, they had arrived. it just so happens that [y/n] needed to test something on the bodies. nothing too harsh, of course. "hello, molly. fancy seeing you here."

the morgue's pathologist, molly hooper, blushed slightly at [y/n]'s choice of words. "y-yeah, i work here."

in a swift motion, the smile across [y/n]'s face quickly dissolved into their usual expression: nothing. either that or a state of constant, profound thought. the former was the most picked one for daily insults, however. "no point in stating the obvious. now, i need to examine some bodies."

molly showed a soft smile, a bit taken aback from the request, yet complying nonetheless. _the paperwork has already been filed, so there is no harm in examining some bodies,_ she thought. what didn't cross her mind, however, was the fact she was making a clear exception for a witty detective with an odd solicitation. nevertheless, she took [y/n] to where the bodies where being held, putting them on top of a flat surface for the detective to do whatever detective-like things they intended on doing.

grabbing their riding crop from the pocket on their dark blue coat, [y/n] starting beating the bodies that were displayed in front of her. molly had brought them here, no questions asked, which didn't exactly surprise them, yet made one of their assumptions a bit closer to being clear. what went on inside [y/n]'s mind was a wonder for itself. with not a single sound except for grunts coming out their mouth, they took their time with the spanking. for a few minutes, nothing was heard from that room except for whipping noises. when the detective was finally finished, they left the room and the bodies behind.

"molly, tell me what bruises on those bodies in 20 minutes." the doctor nodded in agreement, still bewildered from the strange event that had just taken place in her morgue. quickly, the detective took into their notice small details about the doctor's appearance, ones that would out her attraction to [y/n] lest they went unnoticed. the lipstick, the new hair — she usually parted it in the middle, now it stood to the side — were all signs she had gone to the bathroom and changed.

"what did you do to your lips?" [y/n] asked.

"the lipstick?" she asked, pointing to her now bright-pink lips. "oh, nothing, i just refreshed a bit..."

"it looks good on you." molly looked as if she'd been hit with a bullet. a few seconds set apart [y/n]'s remark and her answer while the doctor tried to process what had just been said to her. "thank you," she finally managed to utter some words. _thank god, a response,_ [y/n] thought.

leaving with no other remarks to make, the detective went upstairs to check on their progress with the chemicals they had left there the day before: [y/n] was trying to discover how long it takes for a certain bacteria to multiply in a freezingly cold ambient. when they were about to examine the sample, however, two men arrived at the morgue.

they were dull. incredibly, monstrously, utterly dull. one of them the detective had an acquaintance with. reserved and small, mike stamford was one to blend with the crowd. a very charismatic chap, people would say. some days prior, stamford and [y/n] had met, and the detective had expressed their need for a flatmate: the rent had started to become too much of a nuisance. after all, one can only earn so much with a consulting detective job. a job which, [y/n] would affirm very proudly, they had invented themself.

the other one was a stranger. also rather small, and even more reserved than his companion. just from his conservative haircut and sharp posture, [y/n] could say he had been in the military. next to his right leg and held firmly in his hand was a walking cane, which the detective assumed was due to an injury during the war. afghanistan, it must have been. with all those pieces together, [y/n] was able to understand why their colleague had brought this stranger to see them.

"the address's 221b, baker street," [y/n] said, without taking their eyes off the microscope.

mike stamford chuckled. "and that is [y/n] for you." he turned to the detective. "good morning, [y/n]. this is akaashi keiji, a friend of mine from when we went to medical school together. he's looking for a-"

"potential flatmate," [y/n] said, still not looking away from the lens. "thank you, mike."

the stranger finally spoke. "h-how did you know?"

[y/n] sighed. _it must be so funny to live inside those brains of yours._ "a few days earlier, i had talked to mike about my search for a flatmate. and now he comes to me with someone who most definitely is looking for one, judging by your military status and leg injury. i can tell you haven't been earning much from your job, since you stay at home wallowing in self-pity. thus, here we are, and we better make it as quick as we can to avoid unnecessary conversation. can you lend me your phone?"

akaashi looked startled. "uh, yeah, sure." he threw his phone at [y/n], who catched it with one hand. "but we barely know each other, how can you know all this?"

with a much more suffering-filled sigh, the detective finished looking for the bacteria's name on the internet and looked back at the ex-army doctor. "your haircut and posture absolutely screams military, and so does your injury. further, i also now know your brother's just got away from an unhappy marriage and has a drinking problem, hence why you don't talk to him. is that good enough for you?"

keiji was in awe. "brilliant. amazing." he looked at mike. "w-why didn't you tell me this?" stamford simply laughed it off in a that's-just-how-they-are manner, while akaashi still had his mouth agape.

[y/n] had enough with the bacteria. as they got up from the bench in which they sat, put the microscope away and took one last look at the bodies next door through the glass in the wall, they grabbed their coat and went on to the door, passing by stamford and their newfound flatmate. _potential_ flatmate, that is.

"again, the address is 221b, baker street. meet me there at 1pm."

and so they left.

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ───── 

**a/n:** heyo! and we're back to the story! this was just a starter for what's to come, hehe. did you like seeing akaashi as john watson? i'm pretty much following the basics of bbc's sherlock for now, but we'll of course get some original cases and whatnot. this chapter was very fun to write, so i hope you liked it as much as i did. stay tuned for the next one!

thank you so much for reading!

signing off,

— 𝖒.


	3. 𝟬𝟮 • 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

arriving at the location, akaashi could see [y/n] in front of the building, strolling about to and fro with ease — still not noticing his arrival. although they walked with composure, keiji could tell they were taking notes on passers-by's motions, analyzing their every move — finding out where they lived, worked, or were last night on a fateful escapade. taking a glance at his watch, he noticed the detective had gotten there sharply at the hour on which they had agreed. with a sigh, akaashi realized they were signing up for a whole lot of action — action which an ex-army doctor with a leg injury should not, in fact, sign up for.

keiji walked up to the building marked as 221b. a navy-blue door hovered over them, welcoming the soon-to-be flatmates inside their edifice. "hey," he said. just a nod as a response from the detective.

a lady about as tall as akaashi stepped outside the door, asking both of them to come in. "hello, dear. i see you've found a flatmate, then?" she asked, turning to [y/n].

"yes. ms. hudson, meet akaashi keiji. akaashi, meet ms. hudson. she's our landlady," [y/n] answered. "shall we go in, then?"

and so they did.

◦'𖥸'◦

it would be an euphemism — and a dreadful one at that — to affirm the flat was a mess. in akaashi's opinion, "mess" wasn't quite the right word to describe it. no, indeed it wasn't. "horrendous" was more like it. the first thing he saw was books. piles and piles of books everywhere. there was barely space for one to sit with all those books lying around like tree leaves in autumn. in front of the fireplace, two chairs faced each other — a black one with its back to the window and a red one facing the sun. the black one had a cushion crease, thus making akaashi assume that was [y/n]'s chair. the red one stood untouched, inviting him.

as the sunlight creeped through the cracks on the window, keiji could see a violin and a stand for sheet music. _so they play, huh? interesting,_ he thought. _what can't they do?_ along with the stand, specks of dust floated around, much like tiny fairies. with just a glimpse to his left, akaashi saw the true mayhem: the kitchen. the most unusual lab shenanigans seemed to go on there, where a bunch of tubes, cylinders and other recipients laid around randomly.

despite all that chaos, akaashi still felt the flat could be cozy if they turned it inside out and cleaned up all that... stuff. much to his dismay, however, [y/n] wasn't as eager to go with this idea as keiji hoped they'd be.

"this can be a wonderful flat-" the ex-soldier began.

"yes, that's why i went ahead and moved in-" but was quickly interrupted.

"-if we get all this together and clean it up."

"oh. i see." both of them just stared at each other awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. past a few — notably weird and filled with blank eyes and blinking — seconds, the detective chose to be the first one to unbuckle themselves from that very uncomfortable moment. "well, i suppose i can clean it up a bit-"

"no, don't worry. i'll see how we'll manage." not wanting to stay there and blink a thousand more times, keiji was quick to call for the landlady. "ms. hudson! i'll take the room upstairs."

from the distance, one could hear the faint yet fast steps of the old lady, running to the soon-to-be-flatmate's encounter. "marvelous! i'll just go fetch the key, then," she said, running to her own flat once more.

akaashi sat on the inviting red chair he had noticed earlier. "how did you know?" he asked.

the detective furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "what do you mean? how did i know what?"

"well, you know, the thing with the leg, my brother, and all that." with the mention of his injury, akaashi tightened his grip on his walking cane, running his other hand up and down the injured leg. "i never told you and apparently neither did mike, so how? what gave it away?"

with squinted eyes and a perplexed expression, [y/n] screamed "isn't it obvious?". it made them so puzzled, ordinary people. _what goes on in your funny little heads?_ they often would catch themself wondering. sometimes it even came out aloud and people would take it as an insult. anyhow, it was anything but: just a supposedly gifted individual pondering about standard people and their standard minds.

with a sigh, they began to explain what led them to such a conclusion. "well, you were clearly limping and in a dire need for a walking cane, hence the leg injury. since everything about you — from head to toe, really — just about shouted 'military' at my face, i just wondered where it was. guessed afghanistan, your bewildered eyes gave me the answer." they took a pause for a breath, giving akaashi just enough time to gasp aloud at the detective's wonderful abilities.

however, they were not done yet: "now, for your brother: when you took out your phone, i saw the carving of someone's name, 'clara' along with three kisses, if i'm not mistaken. a gift from this 'clara', then, the phone. three kisses and a rather expensive gadget indicates a more serious relationship, and you don't seem like the type of person that would get a girlfriend in the first place — no offense. more serious relationship, marriage: if not you, your brother. a gift from your brother's wife to him. why did he give it to you, then? well, it's fairly obvious to me: he broke it off. if she had ended things with him, he would have kept it. sentimental value, i suppose. but no, he gave it to you.

"so that leaves us with a broken marriage and a phone. why did they break up? maybe the girlfriend liked him, but not his drinking problem. the charger area is almost destroyed to a crisp, and only a drunk would have a phone like that. never seen a damage like this in a sober man's phone. lonely nights, drinking out until late, comes back home, can't place the charger for the life of him. there it is. that's how i knew."

akaashi let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "wow. impressive." [y/n] simply shrugged it off, as if that was something they did on the daily. "really impressive." almost as if on cue, ms. hudson came back from her flat and gave the ex-soldier the keys. the woman was out as quickly as she came in, with a "there you go, dear" and a nod as a farewell.

"you know," keiji said, "it's harriet. harry's short for harriet. my sister," he added.

[y/n] widened their eyes in surprise. "damn it! there's always something. i can't believe i missed the sister."

"happens more often than not," the black-haired one said, shrugging his shoulders as a way to say "that's fine, i guess".

the detective received a call. "hello? yes, that's me. right now? okay. no, not in the police car, i'll be right behind you. okay, bye." ending the call, they turned to akaashi. "got to go. lestrade just phoned me about a case. apparently, some old abandoned hospital has been blown up and he wants me in it-" as soon as they noticed they were starting to blabber about, the sentence came to a halt. "never mind. i'll just go." grabbing their coat on their way out like usual, the detective closed the door, leaving keiji alone in his new flat.

 _well, that's anticlimactic,_ he thought to himself. truth was, keiji being invalidated out of the war was the trigger for his stress, not some sort of ptsd. and now, hanging out with that borderline sociopathic detective, he saw the battlefield again. and he wanted in. he wanted to be back, to be in action. half of him expected [y/n] to invite him. yet again, they had just met after all. even with the invasive questions and overanalysis of his whole character, akaashi still didn't think they would make a move such as inviting him to accompany them in one of their cases.

and boy, was he wrong.

"you've probbaly seen a whole lot of murder back in your day."

"yes, indeed i have."

"wanna see some more?"

"oh, hell yeah."

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** and the second chapter's here! i'm sorry it took me longer than the other one, some school stuff came up. anyways, did you like this chapter? what do you think will be the case they'll be invited to solve this time? let me know here!

also, i wanted to explain how this book will work out: similarly to bbc's sherlock (wow, shocker) it will be divided into series. how does that work? well, you have the first three chapters concluding a certain arc, and that's a series. the next one will cover another arc, and so on. if you have any doubts, please let me know! i'll be more than happy to clear that out for you. 

thank you so much for reading this far, and i hope you enjoyed the chapter!

signing off,

— 𝖒.


	4. 𝟬𝟯 • 𝘢 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

akaashi's plan was to waltz inside the police station with the most nonchalant expression he could muster. however, like a blaring siren, he was alarmed. hundreds of stimulating sights boosted his senses — there he was, amidst tons of people who walked like [y/n], who worked like [y/n], even dressed like [y/n] (although their signature coat stood unparalleled). most importantly, those people thought like [y/n]. _am i about to discover how this detective, with their tongue as sharp as their attitude, thinks on the daily?_

as he began frantically searching for the faintest clue as to why [y/n] acted the way they did, the blue-eyed man found himself in a state of utter shock. with all his might, he forced back all kinds of judgmental conviction he might have gained from the few hours they had spent together in regards to the way the detective handled certain situations. however, his train of thought was quickly interrupted by someone he deemed to be an inspector.

the man had quite the resolve to his walk — the way his legs gaited in a rhythmic manner, much like keiji's own back in his military days, marching along to the beat of his crewmates. even though he carried some kind of posse to his walk, the man looked down as soon as he saw [y/n], as if they had intimidated him in some way. akaashi wondered why, but kept his mouth shut in case that was a personal matter. with dark brown, shortly buzzed hair, the man promptly looked up once more, surprised to see a second person along with the detective. _not judging you, man, sometimes i wonder myself,_ the ex-soldier thought.

as one could probably tell by the posh look on their faces, keiji was to be found inside a place one could call scotland yard. the suit-and-tie uniform gave it all away. surely, akaashi had some notion of what they did in there, yet he had never been that curious to explore further. yet now, there he was: standing with the most witty detective he had ever encountered, about to go on a murder frolic, and receiving orders from an inspector.

or so he thought.

"shut up, lestrade," [y/n] said, clearly stating they were the one giving orders around there.

the man with the determined walk — lestrade, as it seemed — looked up from his shined shoes to stare directly at the detective's [e/c] eyes. eyebrows furrowed, his mien showed as much confusion as did akaashi's. _shouldn't lestrade ask you to shut up?_ "i didn't say anything..."

"you didn't have to," the detective quickly responded. "you're about to introduce yourself to this man you see next to me, yet i'd love you to spare us both the obvious and lead me and keiji to the case." lestrade blinked twice, astounded. "please," they smiled, an action which rapidly vanished.

while [y/n] took the lead, apparently with no need for the inspector to show them the way, lestrade stayed behind to have an exchange with keiji. no words needed to be said (and even if they were, the detective would turn around like an owl's neck and eye the men with fire in their gaze) for both of them knew what they meant to say. according to akaashi, it would potentially be something along the lines of "what the hell?" and "yeah...". both phrases could be applicable to either men, of course.

they reached a room in which resided two chairs and a table, yet none of them sat. [y/n] moved from side to side, not being able to keep those legs of theirs quiet, anticipating yet another exciting (or whatever one could call murder) case. lestrade, on the other hand, showed his impatience otherwise: his slim fingers couldn't stop fidgeting with each other, his index and thumb seeming to be picking a fight against one another. akaashi was quite the contrary — never had he even been near a murder case, but he had some sort of idea, while the detectives stood both too anxious and too afraid.

"okay... we'll go through the files, then." keiji began looking at the pile of paper that sat in front of them. "a blown-up hospital? it's not murder, then?" he was indeed surprised, given the man had expected an extravagant homicide, but got an old hospital. "and it's abandoned, on top of all that?"

[y/n] didn't seem to think that case was as off-putting as did akaashi. "genius! who would blow up an abandoned hospital?" the pacing, which had halted, had begun once more. "thank you, george, thank you!"

lestrade looked disoriented. "it's greg," he sighed.

the detective didn't pay much mind to the inspector's real name, instead started gathering all the information they could from the files in front of them and hurrying to the exit to find the crime scene. they muttered unintelligible words under their breath, like a sorcerer whispering words of spells. and it indeed was magic, what they did. akaashi still could not believe his blue eyes that such a brilliant person had appeared in front of him, especially at such dull times in his life.

◦'𖥸'◦

the case might have been a startle for [y/n], but the crime scene was certainly anticlimactic. it was just as one would have expected: a blown-up abandoned hospital. in fact, "abandoned" would be an euphemism. it felt like bloody pompeii in there: no one to be seen, just ruins of what once was a health center.

the reason for which it was blown up, though, was what bewildered keiji. as he breathed in the sweet scent of the british open-aired breeze, he let his mind wander about who could have done it. he had seen some explosions himself back in his time, but never had he seen one who didn't seem to have a meaning. it was always to attack the enemy, or to let them know keiji's troops were near. his commander, sholto, would always say: "there isn't a bomb without meaning, just as there isn't a song without sound".

grey, dull and foreseeable were the words [y/n] had used to describe the scene. nonetheless, they grabbed the ashes of walls and hospital equipment and began to set them apart with a motion of their index and thumb, analyzing the dirt. leaving the cinders behind, the detective chose to take a stroll around the down-sized pillars and look for, well, something. something which, taking into account [y/n]'s mind, could be anything — ranging from a strand of hair to a cellphone, akaashi supposed.

as they searched for clues, akaashi realized he had forgotten lestrade was ever there. and truly, he stood as unmoving as a tree stump, just blinking every once in a while to prove the ex-soldier, the only one who paid attention to him, that he was still alive. to keiji, the inspector was some kind of tag-along guy, who's always there but doesn't really contribute to the conversation. of course, he would make his remarks every now and then, yet they would always be rebutted by someone who deemed themselves of a higher iq, leaving everyone baffled and, in consequence, lestrade withered — the one and only [y/n].

"greg," akaashi said, evoking a gasp from the former, given someone had actually gotten his name right. "i know sometimes working with [y/n] must be hard, but there's no need to diminish yourself before them. they may be smart, but that doesn't mean you're use-"

"no, in fact, it does mean he's useless. i do all the brain-y work while he stands there for moral support. although i won't need him anymore, since i've got you for moral support now," [y/n] said, making their way toward the men. "and don't say one more word, giles, it will lower the iq of the whole place," they added, still not looking at either of them.

akaashi sighed. _there it was. it's only been one day and they're already this arrogant._ "you know this is rather-"

"rude? yes. necessary? absolutely. can't let myself waste my time with such stupid people antics. now if you'll excuse me," [y/n] tried to get past akaashi to get to lestrade. "who's in forensics?" they asked.

to which the inspector responded, "anderson."

"anderson?" they grunted, clearly not excited to work with the man. "he doesn't work with me. keiji, please wait here until i call you. i will go back to the flat. you will analyze, and most likely supervise, anderson's work here and get a cab back when you're done to tell me all the details. understood?" they blinked twice, waiting for an answer. meanwhile, akaashi was too baffled at how much of a superiority complex could fit inside one coated detective to answer.

"okay, i guess. but what have you got there?" the ex-soldier pointed at the detective's hand, which held a piece of paper.

"oh, this? well, it just might be the answer to this case."

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** heyo! i'm back from the dead with another chapter! i'm sorry this took me so long, i went back to school and now i've got a shit ton of things to do :P oh well, that's life for you i guess.

n knee wayz, did you like this chapter? what do you think is on [y/n]'s hand? let me know in the comments! i'm sorry that this chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but i hope it was good enough for u guys <3 as always, thank you so much for reading! i hope you're enjoying the story :)

signing off, 

— 𝖒.


	5. 𝟬𝟰 • 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭?

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

a single note on a ruined site wasn't a surprise for [y/n]. they were a detective, after all. they had seen the most odd, bewildering, baffling things one could possibly imagine. as the detective tried to repress unpleasant memories, they took notice of what indeed was surprising: the content of the note."i see you" — three tiny words with so much meaning, meaning which could take someone with a less potent mind as long as years to unravel. however, the detective was no such person, and took it upon themselves to figure out what was meant to be said in the letter.

firstly, they ran through the most probable cases: a sly stalker? a bomber with a knack for eerily cryptic notes? a blind person hinting at an inside joke? what puzzled [y/n] the most was the fact this message seemed to be directed at them. but, apart from countless enemies who could easily bomb a hospital, [y/n] knew of no enemies of theirs who would leave a note. _none of them are this dramatic... but maybe it's-_

the sound of an opening door startled the pensive detective. "oh, keiji, you're back. how did it go with anderson?" they asked.

akaashi took little notice of the restless figure. instead, he made his way to the kitchen and grabbed himself a cup of water. with a sigh, he finally acknowledged the detective's presence. "anderson's fine," he said, with a strong pause. "what's not fine, however, is you leaving out of nowhere! do you just do that? i was left there with a bunch of strangers-"

"if that's what you're worried about, i-"

"-and cops at that! in a blown-up hospital! seriously, if this," he gestured around, his unquiet hands showing clear signs of ailment, "is what we're going to do as long as we're flatmates, i'll leave!"

[y/n] inhaled, closing their eyes with every breath. as they could tell by the impatient foot-tapping, keiji waited for an answer. and so he got one. "then off you go. i've no business in what you do, keiji, but i will continue to partake in my investigations. if you're not comfortable in such a space, be my guest."

"stunned" wasn't quite the word to describe the ex-soldier's expression. "a gunshot away from committing bloody murder" was more like it. instead of throwing a fit — an action which, in akaashi's humble opinion, could be very valid in the given situation — akaashi slumped himself on the nearest chair. the red cushion hugged his figure with ease as the man plopped down on it.

"okay, whatever, you do you. but don't count me in on any of your shenanigans anymore."

the detective exhaled at last, taking the note once more into their hands. as their eyes rolled back and forth, analyzing each millimeter of the paper — cheap printer paper, man's handwriting, some old bic pen that was one word away from breathing its last breath — their mind took the moment to wonder about the writer of said note. "i see you" weren't common words to put on a note, unless they were directed at them. in that case, "i see you" could fit perfectly into the description of that one gut feeling that led [y/n] to think they were being watched.

"i'm going back," [y/n] said.

"going back where?" akaashi was startled by the detective's sudden outburst of energy. _going back?_ "w-wait, where are you going?" [y/n] said nothing in response, just raised their eyebrows and blinked two times in utter silence.

"oh, are we playing this game now? i see, i see." keiji did not leave his chair as he looked away from the hurrying figure of the detective. however, it didn't take him two seconds to quit what [y/n] thought was some childish nonsense to which people of a lower intellectual prowess were prone, get up, and go with them. "your way. it's always your way," akaashi said.

◦'𖥸'◦

anderson and lestrade were still at the crime scene when the flatmates arrived, which surprised both men. nonetheless, [y/n] and akaashi entered the place as airy as they had earlier. the ex-soldier had nothing to account for but his impatience with [y/n]. the detective, on the other hand, had some questions for the inspector.

"lestrade, when we got here, did you see this note?" they asked.

"no," lestrade responded with a shrug of his shoulders.

"of course you didn't," [y/n] smiled, yet it faded away just as quickly as it had appeared. "well, it seems it's connected with that one time i felt as if i was being watched." they seemed to expect a response, yet none of the men present said a word. especially anderson, who couldn't look more uninterested in [y/n]'s incident. the detective shook their head as if to dismiss any snarky remarks about the scientist.

"one cloudy night, i was sitting outside baker street when i felt, a strong breeze really, that i was being observed by someone. ms. hudson came outside soon after i noticed, so i didn't have time to ascertain myself that there was truly someone there. anyway, i think this note might be related to that occurrence. after all, it just seems really odd that someone would get some random cheap paper and a dying pen to leave a message after he had just blown up an abandoned site."

"he?" anderson finally looked inquisitive about [y/n]'s frolics.

"yes, 'he'. man's handwriting." they handed the note to anderson. "it's surprising that a forensics expert can't distinguish between different forms of scripts." and there it was, the snarky remark. "anyhow, i'll go and find out more about this query. you stay here and talk some sense into those two morons." [y/n] briskly dismissed akaashi with a wave of their hand, yet keiji realized his reflexes were still in perfect shape as he grabbed the detective's hand mid-motion.

"wait, i've got a question: why did he — as you say it — blow up an abandoned place? isn't this the most riveting part about this case?" lestrade nodded along and keiji bobbed his head forward in agreement. "so i was thinking, we used to use bombs as a warning sometimes. maybe this is a message to someone?"

the inspector furrowed his brows. "but, as you just said, this place is abandoned. who could possible be here?"

keiji responded with a shoulder raise. "i don't know. we can snoop around, see if we find anything important." [y/n] didn't show much enthusiasm for keiji's idea, given he had just interrupted them. the other men, however, nodded in accordance and started scan the place as fast as they could, looking for any kind of evidence someone might have established a house there.

the men looked for all kinds of housing — tents, shacks, dens. in the meantime, akaashi found himself whispering words of distress, the same words he would hear in the battlefield. truly, he saw a constant clash when he was in the detective's company. the busy streets, the murderous eyes, the cold breeze. all of that gave the impression of threats to [y/n], who was regularly keeping an eye out for evidences. for them, everything could be a clue to an assassin, to a robber, to a purposeless perp plotting his next victim. and, in between all that, was a traumatized ex-soldier with a leg injury. the adrenaline didn't ease off all the pain, after all.

as he limped his way through the ruins, keiji found a hut. miniscule, one he would have been none the wiser about hadn't he looked at the exact place it was. deserted, the hut seemed to be falling apart. utterly thrashed, as if the inhabitant had left in a hurry.

"well, there _is_ a place in here after all. the bomb might have just been a message."

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** took me a while but here is the new chapter! what do you think? who do you think lived in that hut? hehe, you'll be surprised when you see the ending of this. by the way, i said we'd have three to four more chapters (about seven or eight in total) but, as i finished the planning, i realized we'll have 10 chapters total by the end of series one! yay :)

i hope you liked this chapter. if you did, please consider giving it a vote, leaving some comments or even sharing it around. it would mean the absolute world to me <3 as always, thank you so much for reading this far! i hope you're enjoying the story.

signing off, 

— 𝖒.


	6. 𝟬𝟱 • 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

after akaashi called for the two men and [y/n], occurred a series of allergy-ridden sneezes and coughs. those didn't only come from the arriving party: keiji had his own share of dust allergy and thus began the sneezing orchestra. the place, keiji thought, was worse than his flat earlier in the morning. he supposed all that lab equipment was for some sort of development — although not the most legal type of said activity. there were countless science-related machines just laying around, scattered across the dusty floor.

"this place is a wreck," said anderson, clearly stating the obvious.

"thank you for your critical remark, anderson," [y/n] replied, not appalled at the man's observational skills. "now, where are the drugs?"

"the drugs?" lestrade asked, eyebrows furrowed.

across the creaking door stood a table — where all the test tubes and whatnot were placed — and a bunch of beanies. by that disorganized image, [y/n] could assume they were about to deal with someone with a hat obsession. _those can't be just collectibles, they all show signs of wear,_ they thought. they immediately stored that detail in their mind palace, for the detective had to know some sort of physical trait that highlighted the person they were looking for.

"yes, 'the drugs', this man is unquestionably a drug developer! can't you see?" and there was the look once more: with squinted eyes followed by a raise of their brows, the detective asserted their place as the dominant mind among the four of them. "no one needs that much lab equipment in their flat, let alone in a reckless hut."

"but can't he just be enormously interested in science, hence all this? he probably has more in his apartment and just uses this hut as a sort of allergy-inducing summer house," said lestrade, counter-attacking [y/n]'s deduction with the cleverest "i won" face he could muster.

nevertheless, his victory was short-lived. "given this place is dreadfully isolated, he didn't want people to know what he was doing. that leads us to drug developing," the detective said, revoking lestrade's faint assumption about the perp as they hurriedly searched the place for the drugs.

"and a man, too?" now akaashi was the one not following.

"yes." [y/n] grabbed a beanie from the table, analyzing every inch of it with their quick, lynx eyes. "big head, short blonde hair from the strands inside the hat: it's either a man or a woman with a very short hairstyle. further, we're looking for someone tall. look at the floor-ceiling height — no one needs that high a ceiling inside a hut. in fact, it's contradictory that one would build it like this: you want to lay low, stay unnoticed. that's why we found it: it's too tall for a hideout."

the detective examined the table, taking one of the test tubes from it. next to the tubes, [y/n] noticed a pile of papers, but didn't pay much mind to them. "whoever lived here left in a hurry." they turned around to face akaashi. "keiji, you said something about a message, right?" they asked, to which the man nodded. "this man most certainly does not like the messenger," they said with a huge smile, one you could only see when faced with a tangled mystery which [y/n] was eager to solve.

however, there was something utterly off about this case. one could even go to the extent of saying akaashi felt as if he were in danger. according to [y/n] — whose guess was right more often than not — they were dealing with a drug developer and a bomber. _and a feud between the two at that,_ he thought. what sort of trouble would they go through to find out why the hospital had been blown up? what sort of dangers? that was what unsettled the ex-soldier the most.

on [y/n]'s end, the reason for their restlessness was the note. they fidgeted around with the thought of a potential stalker, worried that he might come for them while they investigated. they had once considered the possibility of the man being a shy fan, but quickly discarded that one, since their investigative talents were only known to the scotland yard, and even then they stood as just a consulting detective, with not a dime attached to their name for their work.

"keiji, i'm taking this to the lab. we're about to find out what this man is plotting."

◦'𖥸'◦

akaashi wasn't the most eager to enter that lab again, given what he had seen the last time he'd been there. to be fair, he had only spent some hours with the detective and he already had some interesting stories to tell. one could say keiji was scared, but another could argue that he was just intrigued. either way, the ex-soldier certainly did not want to see someone beat a dead body ever again in his life — but was dreadfully afraid he'd have to, given the detective's extravagant personality.

apart from slightly scarring events, the lab was just fine. he had seen many labs before, for he had been a doctor in the army. that being said, he did not find strange the lines of test tubes and neon-green substances that laid around seamlessly, neatly organized by molly hooper, the pathologist. in fact, he was quite surprised that a science lab could be that straight: scientists could enter a state of astounding frenzy when working.

like a theatrical cue, molly came in the room as soon as she saw [y/n] entering. "oh, you're back already?" she asked, clearly trying to hold back a huge smile.

"yes, i am. i need some tubes and a microscope, please." the detective didn't give much attention to the pathologist, and akaashi could tell that let her spirits down. as soon as she brought the things [y/n] had asked for in a large basket, keiji made sure to thank her, for he knew [y/n] wouldn't. the woman smiled in return, happy to be recognized.

the only people that were left out of the trip to the lab were lestrade and anderson. not a surprise, since [y/n] spent their time either bragging about their own high-level mind abilities or starting little quarrels with the men — quarrels which mostly started with the bragging, so it was some sort of childish cycle.

with all the equipment set, the detective began analyzing the substances in the test tubes they had taken from the hut. as they put a drop of them in tiny slabs and took said slabs to the microscope, their eyes were like restless squirrels looking for nuts: always going back, forth, side to side, searching for clues as to what those liquids were. it didn't take them long to figure it out, but it was long enough for akaashi to be extremely fascinated by the way all those engines worked inside their mind while they maintained absolute silence.

while keiji gawked at [y/n]'s abilities, lestrade and anderson came in. however, they could have brought a marching band with them and the ex-soldier would not have noticed. it took some time, but [y/n] finally spoke up. "found it. oh, that's genius."

anderson was the first to question the aforementioned claim. "genius? don't you think that's a little bit too sophisticated for a drug dealer? don't forget what we're dealing with he-"

it was akaashi's turn to bicker. "shut up, anderson."

evoking a small curve upward from [y/n]'s mouth — and a sincere one at that, one could even say they had just smiled — akaashi found himself satisfied with the outcome of his childlike behaviour. nevertheless, [y/n] began to explain why they had found the discovery genius. "we'll have to go to a sweets shop! come on, akaashi, i'll explain it on the way."

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** hello my lovelies! how are you today? i hope all of you are feeling well. please remember to drink water and get some rest! it's important to take care of yourselves. if you have done that already, i am so proud of you! if you haven't, that's okay! you can always ask someone around you for help. ily <3

now to the chapter: what did you think of it? i hope you liked reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. i love to write the dynamic between lestrade, anderson, and [y/n]. also, i was wondering if you guys prefer [y/n] or [name]. i've seen both and i just want you to feel more comfortable. if you liked the chapter and/or are liking the story so far, please consider giving it a vote, leaving a comment and sharing it around! it would mean the world to me. 

we're 5 chapters away from the end! thank you so much for reading this far. what do you think will happen? let me know here :)

signing off, 

— 𝖒.


	7. 𝟬𝟲 • 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘦'𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

saying keiji was startled at the mention of the words "sweets shop" in a drug case was an understatement. in his opinion, one would not be able to find hardcore, addictive substances in some spin-off of charlie's chocolate factory. _well, they did have some psychedelic gremlins with a knack for dancing when bloody murder is about to commence._ pushing those thoughts aside, keiji followed the detective as they went back to the destroyed hut.

"i didn't really care since it was just a pile of papers," [y/n] began explaining, "but it seemed there was a pamphlet about a grand opening of a sweets shop in between all that lab equipment." akaashi opened his mouth, drawing in breath to ask the detective why they thought they'd find drugs at a place that sells candy, but was interrupted by [y/n]'s speedy talking.

"i know what you're going to ask — are you sure we can find drugs in a shop like this?" [y/n] said in a squeaky voice, mocking keiji as if he were stupid. "yes. that's why it's brilliant. the liquids in the tubes i took to the lab contained glucose, a highly addictive substance that has effects close to cocaine in your brain. the drug is sugar-based. how do you think children are so attracted to candy?"

"because they're addicted to it..." keiji muttered under his breath, finally understanding why they were going back to the crime scene. they stopped at a red light and waited for the cars to pass by. "if you're so certain of your discovery, why are we going back to the hideout?"

the detective sighed. "because we need to get that pamphlet, are you even listening? we need to know when and where that shop is going to open, so we can go there and find our developer. now come on, we've got a cab to catch."

◦'𖥸'◦

the detective and the ex-soldier made sure to leave the hut as fast as they had entered, for a person could only stand sneezing their life away for so long. after they had got the paper indicating where they needed to be to catch the perp, they called the nearest cab and went straight back to the flat.

and there stood ms. hudson, plate in hand, ready to come upstairs and give them tea and biscuits. however, they were in a hurry — the shop was about to open its doors. putting on their signature coat, this time a better-looking one with pockets on the sides, the detective took a glance at the clock that looked down on them on the wall behind the red chair. 2pm. the shop was to open at 2:30, so the both of them had no time for beverages. akaashi made sure to bid goodbye to the kind landlady on his way out, yet [y/n] did none of that, instead simply stating they "were to repeat history, just like your (ms. hudson's) husband". keiji wondered what that was about.

on their way to the shop, [y/n] and keiji took contrasting positions. while akaashi had gotten over the whole "sugar can be addictive" mind spiral, [y/n] could not stop thinking about that damned note. whoever left it was watching them from afar, and it bugged them to understand who was it. who could have taken such interest in them and would go to such lengths to send them a message? usually, that implied a murder scheme, but it certainly would be odd for a stranger with murder intentions not to take his chance right there and then, as they sat on the bench in front of their flat, completely unarmed. _stop it. who are you kidding? you know it's a stalker._

it took the black cab 20 minutes to halt at a stop: they had gotten there 10 minutes early, which gave them plenty of time to look high and low for a tall, blond man in a beanie. as they looked around as composedly as they could, they noticed the extravaganza that was the shop. not just fountains of melted chocolate and giant red ribbons as decoration, but running children everywhere and the sweet smell of cocoa — akaashi understood why the little ones were so enticed by that type of sweets.

dodging from overly-joyful employees dressed as a downgraded version of a santa helper in a barbie movie, the detective felt a pang in their gut. with their head swinging side to side, they looked for their companion, but keiji was long gone, lost between golden bars of chocolate and marshmallows. further, the beanie man was nowhere to be seen.

keiji, on the other hand, knew he was lost. the grand opening of the new sweets shop — "chocolate extravaganza" _very true to its name_ , akaashi thought — was crowded with all sorts of people: adults trying to catch their children, children running away from their parents, teenagers masking their excitement with weary eyes. in the midst of faceless figures blurring together as they passed by him, the ex-soldier could see three men with beanies. facing their backs, keiji could distinguish how extremely tall one of them was. the other two were average height, about keiji's own. one of them, akaashi took a mental note, had long blonde hair. _are those the guys we're looking for?_

trying to hold himself steady in between all those running people, the ex-soldier felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. they were finally going to catch the drug developer. he felt as if he was in the battlefield again, fighting with all his might to win the battle and, hopefully, the war. as quickly as he possibly could, he made his way through the crowd and toward the men. it was a hard task to move past the multitude, yet out the door he went.

◦'𖥸'◦

with what felt a stab on the stomach, [y/n] started feeling dizzy. now, the faces didn't just blur in an amalgamation of silhouettes, but the room itself spun around the detective. nausea took them over, and their eyes started unfocusing. _what is going on?_ they thought.

"easy, now," a voice coming from behind their neck said. it was raspy and low, the kind of voice people would swoon over. "i see you now."

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** wooo who do you think the raspy voice is? i bet you guys already know, but lolol !! n knee wayz, lately i've been whore knee (and what about it??) for suna, so expect a suna fanfic soon (if i don't die of stress b4 that, that is) give me ideas for plots please !!

did you like the chapter? what do you think about the story so far? i hope you're liking it. if you did, please consider giving it a vote and sharing it around! it would mean the world to me :) thank you so much for reading this far, as always !! 

signing off, 

— 𝖒.


	8. 𝟬𝟳 • 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘶𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘯

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 _i see you now, i see you now, i see you now._ those four words floated around [y/n]'s mind as they slowly opened their eyes and took in the cold concrete on their back. _i see you._ where had they heard those words before? everything felt like a blur. leisurely but surely, their hearing came back. however, it was not a pleasant sound they had heard — a shrill note had taken residence in their ear, making them wince in pain. or they would, if they could feel their limbs. the last time they had ever felt that numb was when they- _oh. i see now._

the image of a cheap paper and a man's handwriting took form in front of their nebulous eyes. a peculiar note, too odd to be forgotten. a stalker with a vicious smirk and black hair that fell over sly cat eyes. a velvet-like voice flooding their eardrums. _did i just meet that man?_ the detective's brain spiraled around a mixture of "wow" and "what?". they were utterly stunned with what they had just seen.

the shock was enough to mask the pain for a while, but [y/n]'s body could only let the adrenaline undermine the pang in their stomach for so long. with the revelation's outweighing out of the way, the detective felt an ache in their belly. as a reflex, they tried to direct their hand to rest atop the point in which they felt the prick in a futile attempt to ease the hurt. however, [y/n] was faced with the obstacle of a rope tying both their hands together. blinking heavily, [y/n] saw akaashi next to them, most likely unconscious, and in the same position as they were — tied to a chair.

"oh good, you've finally opened your eyes," a voice said from a few steps in front of them. [y/n]'s weary eyes looked for its source, finding a short, black-haired man playing with a lighter in his hands. he was rather common — even more dull than stamford and keiji put together. his built was nothing to be impressed of, his unruly black hair was all over his face, and his grey-ish brown eyes were as obvious as the sky is blue. he tossed the lighter aside and the detective watched as it fell on top of a black backpack, wondering if that was the man that was watching them that night, had left them a note, and then drugged them. it doesn't seem like him. _i don't get that same eerie feeling as i did before._

"where is that black-haired man?" the detective spoke up. the short man pointed to his own messy hair, mockingly asking if it was him [y/n] talked about. he let out a quiet chuckle. evoking no answer from the man, the detective chose to investigate instead. with just a bat of an eye, they could tell he was nervous, anxiously waiting for something. maybe he wasn't fit for the job of keeping guard of keiji and [y/n]? maybe he was waiting for someone to come back? [y/n] took a mental note to remember another person may come by and aid the man. minutes of deafening silence flew by, and akaashi was still unconscious.

by the looks of it, one could already affirm no one was coming for his rescue. [y/n] decided to play a game instead. _stalling is better than nothing_ , they thought. "he left you, didn't he? he knows i'm dangerous and that i was looking for him, so he left you. he left you here to die. poor you," they said in an attempt to put the man on edge. even with his shaking hands, the man stood as quiet as ever. not a single word dripped out of his puffy lips. as a forceful push to make him topple over the cliff, [y/n] took it upon them to make him speak. "set me free and i'll have mercy on you. you and your daughter."

at last, the cage had been broken. his then boring eyes were now filled with a mix of both rage and strain, nearing the point of no return. he would finally break, he would finally speak. with an expression of pure surprise — eyebrows furrowed and arched, slightly parted lips, _and the most disgusting little "i'm afraid" pose, the detective thought_ — the man set akaashi, who was still not moving, and [y/n] free. still, the detective didn't leave the chair, but just stored away the ropes so he couldn't reach for them and tie them up once more. "how did you know?" the man didn't let the detective answer. "they did tell me you were a monster..."

[y/n] scoffed in disdain. "not a monster, dear. a high-functioning sociopath." _if he had asked nicely_ , they thought, _i could given a proper explanation._ truth was, the detective could see how he kept glancing to his left, where there was a backpack and a single picture of him with a younger child, his child. [y/n] had just taken a not-so-wild guess.

"when a father finds himself in a fire, the first thing he looks at is his baby." and there [y/n] was, delving into what they liked to call "the gotcha game". "unless he started the fire, of course. but you didn't start this fire, now, did you? no, no... you were manipulated into it. they lured you here. and now you're about to burn. so make your wisest bet: me or the girl?" getting up from their seat with ease, [y/n] was high on rush — that backpack didn't just have a silly old photograph in it, it was too puffed to carry only that. apart from the lighter, the man had another card up his sleeve: a gun inside the black carry-on. _now it is just a matter of time before he pulls it out._

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 **a/n:** hey! sorry for the shorter chapter today :( my planning went all over the place when i wrote the last chapter - it was a bit too short, so i included some stuff from the planning of the next chapter in it, and so it went on to this chapter, but i can't do the same with this one cause it would feel weird. did this make sense? n knee wayz.

did you like the chapter? what do you think about the story so far? i hope you're liking it. if you did, please consider giving it a vote and sharing it around !! it would mean the world to me :) also, sorry for bothering with so many author's notes, lolol. at last, thank you for reading this far, i love you guys !! <3

signing off, 

— 𝖒.


	9. 𝟬𝟴 • 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 "𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦" 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴

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the last thing akaashi remembered seeing was the floor. falling faced down, he could barely recall what got him there in the first place. however, judging by the aching bruises on his face and taste of iron in his mouth, he could tell he'd been beaten up. by whom, though? by the guys in beanies he'd seen and followed? by a security guard? by little children fighting for the last piece of candy? alright, the first one makes more sense, he thought. still, that uncertainty gnawed at his brain as he made twists and turns inside his memory to recollect the events from the last few hours.

◦'𖥸'◦

he was following a group of three men in beanies: one of them was as tall as one of the candy cane poles that ornamented the shop. the other two were about his own height, one of them with long blonde hair. he followed them out of the shop, knowing he'd have to leave [y/n] behind as he made his way through the crowd.

past the door, the three men made a right turn on an alleyway. keiji's hands began to shake, excited with the thrill that rushed through his veins as he went after the men. they stopped inside the dimly lit alley. they're waiting for me. they know they're being followed. nevertheless, akaashi didn't stop. even though he knew something bad was about to happen to him, he had a gut feeling telling him he wasn't walking to his death — the men didn't seem menacing.

boy was he wrong: as soon as he set foot on that concrete, his steps echoed, bouncing off the narrow grey walls, warning his followees he had arrived. suddenly, his gut compass pointed its arrows all around. scared, keiji took another step, waiting for his head to be put inside a sack and him to get shoved inside a dumpster. with now frail, lanky legs, akaashi continued to walk, careful not to make a sound. adrenaline rushing through his veins, he could barely form a coherent thought in his head. all it screamed was "imminent danger! leave!", yet he didn't. inside the dark alley, he couldn't even see the men anymore: a cold fog blurred his sight, a fog which he couldn't get rid of, despite how many times he blinked.

just like a lightning bolt appears out of the blue on a stormy sky, the ex-soldier felt a hit on his head. it was about time. immediately unconscious and falling to the ground, the last thing akaashi remembered was the floor, but he could swear he had heard someone say "tsukki, run!".

◦'𖥸'◦

someone shrugged his limp body. [y/n]? another shrug. struggling to open his eyes, keiji saw a familiar silhouette — a coat covering a [y/height] body and the not-so-friendly aura of a witty detective. "you got beaten up pretty bad, huh?" he heard [y/n] snicker. he assumed the comments came from the bruises along his slim body, covering him in purple spots and scratches with blood.

strangely, the man felt a tug at his hands, as if they were tied. as he looked, however, they were free. he wondered if it had been the detective who had kneeled behind him and un-tied them. who had put him there in the first place, on the other hand, was still a mystery. that thought quickly vanished, for he could notice another figure in front of them, trembling in fear — fear which, he had assumed, was directed at the detective. he was unconscious until a few minutes earlier, after all. what can a knocked out body do?

another pull, now toward his forearm. "call the police," the detective whispered in his ear. keiji made a swift motion to his cellphone and dialed the number while [y/n] kept the man distracted with their words. "so? what is it going to be now? me or the girl?" they said to the man in front of them. akaashi had seen him before: he was probably one of the guys in the beanies. the other two must have ran away, but... the girl? there wasn't any girl with those men. his doubt was rapidly resolved as [y/n] turned to him.

"for context, dear, this man's got a daughter," they pointed at a black backpack that laid on the floor, its contents scattered atop of it: the back end of a gun, a lighter, and a photograph of the man in the beanie and a younger child. "and he is about to point a gun and threaten us. that being said, we just wanted to know if he's going to shoot us or keep his daughter. simple as that," they finished with a smile, one that faded away as quickly as it had appeared.

cruel. that scheme, in keiji's opinion, was as cruel as it could possibly get. threatening a man with the loss of his daughter? and one that seems scared at that? that had been low, even for [y/n]. getting up from his chair — and certainly not without feeling dizzy from the beat-up — keiji turned to the detective with daggers in his eyes as if to say "cut the bullshit, i've got a better plan". [y/n] looked back, equally as irate, telling him through squinted eyelids they wouldn't. with a sigh, akaashi tired reasoning with the man.

"there's no need for a gun. we'll kindly leave and you can go back to whatever you were doing, sir." the blue-eyed man took three steps forward and, with every time his foot touched the ground, he imagined the man grabbing his gun and pointing it at him. heavy breaths filled the alley, coming from both akaashi (who was elaborating a plan that didn't involve taking someone's daughter) and the man. "see? everything's fi-"

in a matter of seconds, the man pulled out his gun from the backpack and pointed it at akaashi, evoking an audible gasp from the detective behind him. however, it was nothing to worry about: as fast as the man had threatened akaashi, he tossed the gun out his hand, kicking it to [y/n] and holding the beanie man in a chokehold. "i was a soldier, you know?" yet, when he noticed the man's face was turning blue, he let go of him.

now, it was his turn to ask some questions. "who brought you here?" he asked, calmly. "who brought you here?!" the tone was not so calm then. "i can tell you're not even qualified to be here — your shaking hand, your nervous glances, and the fact you tried pointing your gun to us the other way around. would have done us a favor, honestly." looking at the detective, akaashi could see they were shocked. where did that collected posture go? they thought.

despite any changes of behavior, keiji continued. "you're not even trained. you're just a criminal, and a fickle one at that. now tell me, who brought you here?" no answer again. unexpectedly, a red dot appeared on the terrified man's chest. tears streamed down his face as soon as he saw it, and [y/n] knew why.

"no! don't say anything!" a rifle, pointed at the man, was the lock sealing away all words he could share with the detective about the black-haired man. keiji seemed not to notice, but both the man and the flatmates were in current danger: the man could die, and the two of them could leave empty-handed. "stay quiet."

the man couldn't obey. "kuroo says he misses you." the hidden rifle went off as an ambulance and police sirens approached the scene.

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** and finally, the big reveal !!! to be fair, that's what we were all expecting lolol. this is the second to last chapter of this first series, and the last one's gonna be pretty chill tbh. just some closure, yk? also i've been updating real fast these days........ how?????i guess i'll never know. 

did you like the chapter? how about the story so far? if you did, please consider giving it a vote and sharing the book around!! sorry for saying this all the time lmao. i hit 666 followers ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) today but someone unfollowed me, so it's 665 now :'( anyways-

thank you so much for reading this far, as always ! 

signing off, 

— 𝖒. 


	10. 𝟬𝟵 • 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳

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with the man's body now laying on the floor, dead, akaashi and [y/n] stepped away from it. the stench of blood filled their nostrils, and the both of them silently begged for the police and the doctors to come closer and take it away from them. keiji felt a slight remorse — the man had been used as a pawn, just another piece in a sick game of vile people. a flash of the men in the beanies came to the ex-soldier's mind: he'd have to catch them, whatever it took.

[y/n] stood some steps away from the dead man. the black-haired man wasn't able to leave their mind as they made their way to the police cars. shaking their head as if to shoo away any kind of thoughts related to the mastermind of this crime, the detective saw lestrade. "big day for you, huh? just caught a guy."

the detective sighed. "you see, but you don't observe, lestrade. that man was just bait." [y/n] expected a surprised response from the inspector, yet instead got a frown. both of them sat on the nearest pavement, and the motion evoked yet again a longing sigh from [y/n]. "he did give me some information, and some important one at that — his name."

now, there it was: a surprised gasp from lestrade. "whose name, now?" it came to [y/n]'s realization that they had told nothing about the devious stalker to anyone but ms. hudson. _i've got to talk to her when i get back to the flat,_ they thought.

"nevermind. he just said he missed me, but i don't even know him," they said, trying to make light of the situation. "well, i did just catch _someone_ , so might as well be proud of that. at least i know about the drug now." with a pat on the inspector's shoulder, the detective walked away from the pavement, getting up and stepping toward akaashi, who was wrapped in a blanket. with a pondering glance to their left pocket, [y/n] once more had the stinging sensation that they were being watched.

keiji, on the other end, wasn't shocked. of course, the faded-pink blanket that had been put on top of him was allegedly supposed to be for comfort, but the ex-soldier needed none of the sort. the man had died, akaashi had thought about it, but the glimpses of memory left as quickly as they came. noticing [y/n] was coming toward him, he waved. "the guy's name was takashi. he had run away from his house and his mother was looking for him. can you imagine?" he said.

the detective let out a chuckle. "yeah, sure can. by the way, why did you show off like that? _'i was a soldier, you know?'_ " [y/n] asked, mocking the blue-eyed man next to them.

akaashi, however, didn't play along at first. "yes, and that means i can break any bone in your body while naming them," he retorted, bringing forth a loud laughter from the detective. "wow, you do smile after all," he laughed.

◦'𖥸'◦

kuroo had had his identity revealed, but that was already part of his plan. nothing could stop him from getting to his treasure now — the clever detective was to be his in no time. with kozume by his side, the black-haired, cat-eyed watcher smirked at his newfound obsession. _nothing can stop me now, dear._ with a laugh, he hid behind a veil of shadows once more. 

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** and that's it for the first series !! sorry for the short chapter, it was just for closure, lolol. i hope you liked it !! next, i'll be posting my musician!akaashi fanfic as you guys asked :) as always, thank you so much for reading this far, you guys are amazing <33 if you liked this story so far (the series, that is), please consider giving it a vote and sharing it around, ily!!

signing off, 

— 𝖒.


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